What's the Hold Up?
“Never attribute to malice that which can more easily be explained by incompetence.” - Inscription carved into Relic 382, a shaving razor with properties including [REDACTED]
Standing so very still, Kellin didn’t react as the thing in front of him put down the arm it had been chewing. Didn’t react when it coughed, once, then twice, with greater strength. And, being honest, was very tempted not to react after it called out:
“Excuse me, I need to process your entry, so could you get a bit closer?”
But the Plan demanded such titanic hurdles be ignored, so he shuffled awkwardly over to the desk, behind which sat the goblin. Hunched over an ink-and-blood spattered, paper-strewn desk, the creature didn’t seem to notice the expression of sheer terror he was doing his best to hide, as it pottered about its workplace.
“Name?”
“Kellin Oakhonour,” he replied, quietly.
Perhaps he could get through this quickly. Perhaps, even, without seeing into the eyes, if the… attendant never bothered to look up from it-her scattered sheets.
‘That is a person, not a monster, Kellin. Person, not a monster. Breathe.’
“Place of birth?” she continued, utterly bored.
“Duroyed. Uh, small village, you probably wouldn’t-” he trailed off, voice growing fainter still as the goblin’s head raised, fortunately not quite meeting his eyes, staring off at the sky over his shoulder. For a moment, as the green gate-keeper stared into the distance, a terrible need to turn and look overcame him. It must be the return of whatever had attacked the walls earlier.
That, or some fresh, unknown hell.
“Duroyed, Duroyed, Duroyed…” she repeated, clicking claw-tipped finger and thumb together. Well, perhaps not quite claws, but certainly the dark nails, sharp and long, were claw-like.
‘They can claw your eyes out, they count as claws. What, are you afraid of claws now? The earth sprite was scary, was it? Shall I fetch a bird and you can scream at it? Cop on to-’
“Ah, Duroyed, yes that’s it,” she resumed with a final click, speaking in an excited staccato beat, returning to her forms like an automaton jerking back into motion after it had been re-wound.
“There was something about that village, y’know, not that I’ve ever been, of course, no sir, it’s the city for me. Anyways, let me… that’s in region D2, now I know there was something important about… ah well, it’ll come back to me. So, anything to declare?”
She looked up once more from the sheets, and met Kellin’s eyes with what he was sure deep down was meant to be a friendly, polite smile. He could still see the gristle between the sharp, yellow teeth.
But the eyes were a more vivid yellow still, cat-like, predatory, gleaming with malice.
The eyes he could not escape. Couldn’t breath, nor think. Frozen, like a deer snared by a will-o’-wisp.
“D-declare?” He stuttered, unable to do more than dumbly repeat the last thing the… attendant had said.
‘Person not a monster, come on you prick, pull it together.’
“Yes, sweetheart, declare. As in, are you bringing anything into the city which the authorities,” and she had enunciated the word authorities with a slow tilt of the head, “should be aware of."
"You know, any Ethos gear, Relics, Otherplanar foodstuffs, advanced technology, interstellar parasites, non-linear spaces, eldritch writings, high explosives, demonspawn… let’s see, any new regulations you might be unfamiliar with… Ah, there’s a new check for matchlock spider mandibles, apparently some fool with a fertilizing wand…” she trailed off, still staring at Kellin, whose hands had begun to shake.
“Huh, weird that you… I’ve skipped a step. It’s your first time in the city?” she questioned, her thick green brow furrowing.
“Yeah, no. I mean, it is, yes.” Kellin stilled his tongue before it could do further damage. He clenched his hands, traitors that they were, to his sides in a desperate bid to stop his cowardice from being quite so visible.
“...What, is it the arm thing? Listen I don’t get in your business about your nutrition, I’m an obligate sapiocarnivore, and just because humans happen to be the most easily clone-able sapients we know of doesn’t mean I’m actually eating one of your people. Lucky stars, you flesh moralists will be the death of me. What, did you think I was some feral drooling monster, who was eating the attendant?”
Kellin, on several levels, had no fucking clue what he was supposed to say to that. Partially because that was exactly what he had thought.
“Only joking! The last attendant really was eaten by a feral. You’re fine bud, I get worse looks from my colleagues. I was serious about the meat thing though, all ethically sourced. Don’t go spreading rumours about me eating people, half the reason I got this job was an initiative thing to prove to some scuzzbags in the uppers that..” she continued, easily falling back into the semi-professional patter once more, only to trail off again.
“No,” she remarked, “That’s not it. You’re not… if I didn’t know better I’d think you were afr-”
Her face paled, as much as the vibrant emerald skin could. She paused, and took a breath.
Slowly, delicately, she placed down the laserquill she had been recording his answers with onto the desk.
The attendant, who had before seemed so deadly, and loomed so large in his mind that he had barely been able to breathe, closed her eyes and placed one hand palm down on the desk and the other pinched the bridge of her nose. As she did so, she seemed a great deal smaller than he had first thought.
“Duroyed. Right. That makes sense. Now I remember. So, here goes. ‘I understand that you have experience with beings that look like me, however the Feralkind are a subspecies that..” she began, in a soft monotone.
“Please,” The word blurted out of Kellin without conscious effort, his hand raising by its-damn-self, a signal to stop that he hadn’t willingly made.
She opened her eyes, and paused, which galvanized Kel somewhat, so he continued.
“Please,” he repeated, and as he spoke the most curious thing happened. Before he would have done anything to escape the goblins’ eyes, and yet no matter how much he wanted to meet her gaze at that moment, he just couldn’t.
“It’s… I’ve gotten the talk, there’s… I know you’re not the same as them, it’s just…”
The stone floor of the gate seemed to swell as he trailed off, his attention falling ever deeper into the worn marks and minute details.
“...hard.” He finished, lamely.
“You lost people?” She asked, brief, but not harsh.
“Yes.” A one word answer was just about all he could give at that particular moment.
'Gods Kellin, what’s wrong with you, this isn’t her damn job, sort yourself out, there’s nothing she can do about your damn-'
“... I’m so sorry. Usually in cases like this the management is meant to double-check where the scheduled arrivals are coming from and try to organize shifts so there won’t be any, uh, ‘unforeseen conflicts’ is the term in the handbook. Couple of years ago, there was a thing where a demonkin was working the desk, and an aspiring guardian of Mirf’eie who had lost their whole family to an incursion came through… it wasn’t pretty. I actually had to fill-in for someone today, Sandrah is on maternity leave, so we're understaffed at the minute.”
She took another breath.
“Um, I can go on break, and get one of the other stewards to finish your intake, no problem. And the arm joke, I knew there was something about the D2 region, I just wasn’t thinking, sorry.”
Taking a break from the floor, he looked up and to the side, the pale glow of purple light still casting a surreal tint over the world in front of the gate. Blinking the stinging sensation out of his eyes, he looked back at the stewardess, who had withdrawn further as she spoke, shrinking into herself.
This time, he was able to meet her eyes.
“No, that’s okay.” he began, surprising himself, “Not your- It's not your fault. Can we just-...”
“Of course,” she replied, picking back up the quill she had set down, “So, I can get you a list of everything that needs to be checked, but it’s uh, rather long…”
She picked a thick roll of parchment off the desk, and let it drop, still held by the top of the sheaf. It bounced off the table and then the floor, the roll hitting the back wall of the short, wide kiosk without having thinned out much at all.
“I see. Yeah, I don’t think I have anything to declare, the only thing I can think of is my logos resonator?”, he asked, pulling the gemstone above his collar.
Keep your hands busy.
“Ah, you’re here for the Voidstone Academy, huh? Those are fine, government-issued and all. Now your company makes a bit more sense. Any idea what that’s about?” she replied, ticking a box, eyes flicking over to where the Peacekeeper stood, still at the foot of the carriage. He was locked deep in conversation with Sharp, too far from the desk to hear.
“‘Fraid not. Her… gang? Attacked the transport.” Kel replied, becoming curious himself.
“Okay, well I know what you’re here for, so that’s ‘Purpose of Entry’ sorted, there’s just one bit left, I need to take a tiny blood sample, and don’t be alarmed by the imp, ok?” she asked, reaching to a handle inset into the desk he hadn’t taken much notice of earlier.
“Sorry, the what?” Kellin squeaked.
She pulled the handle upwards with one hand, and a small box emerged from the table, a thin brass scissor mechanism supporting it from underneath as it extended.
The sides and bottom were made of the same dark wood as the desk, but the side facing Kellin was mostly transparent, glass or Crylic stone, with iron-lined edges. The inside was dark, but he could see the glint of a curved metal shape on the bottom of the strange box.
Her other hand reached into a drawer, and removed a small needle-thing, and held it out to him.
“Just a light prick with the wider end. Don’t worry, it’s been boiled and blessed, so no risk of infection. I can do it for you, but I thought you might prefer to, well…” she offered.
He did in fact. He took the needle, trying to be as quick as he could so she wouldn’t see the tremor that he knew was still there, almost to the point of snatching it.
The sliver of metal was needle-like, but not quite a needle. At one end it flared, a sharp ridge which curled back up into the tiny tube, designed to catch blood.
'Wow, rude, snatched out of her hands and now you’re hesitating like a little bi- Not now.'
He pressed the flattened ridge into the edge of his palm, a droplet of blood welled from the miniscule cut and flowed down the tiny conical pan, and then into the needle.
He held it out to her, doing his level best to ignore the voice that was shouting at him not to trust anyone with ANY amount of his blood.
As his village was close to the western front, they did enough grey-trading with witches and outlaws that lived beyond the safer confines of the towns and villages to know better than let anyone get hold of anything that had your essence within it.
You might never see whatever killed you coming.
She gently took the returned needle, and pressed it into a small hole in the top of the box. As she did so, she pulled on a small string hanging beside the scissor brace, within the box a ring of black and white flame sparked into being.
At the end of the needle, now visible in the smoky light, the sample of his blood pooled into a glistening droplet over the centre of the flaring circle.
The droplet burnt in a flash of white flame, tar-smoke billowing out to fill the head-sized box with shadow.
Through the glassy panel, Kel saw the smoke whirl and thicken, growing unnaturally darker. From within the inky depths a shifting, writhing, hunched form pressed against the panel, midnight black claws barely visible through the smoke.
Two eyes snapped open, if you could even call them eyes, two slowly spinning hexagons of such bright white, that even the smoky haze which enveloped the creature did nothing to filter their luminescence.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
The attendant coughed expectantly.
Nothing happened.
She grabbed the handle atop the box once more, clearly frustrated, and rotated the freestanding device’s see-through face towards her, revealing two small metal canisters, pipes leading into the box, bolted onto the opposite side.
Taking a brief glance, both pipes had small valves, and as for the canisters themselves, ‘AgI’ was written on one in old, scuffed white paint which was too worn on the other canister to make out, but a large, uneven plus had been scratched into it.
The harried attendant started gesturing at the bright-eyed creature, repeatedly pointing downwards.
A shrieking, chittering noise was the response from within the box-contraption.
The attendant hissed back.
The box very abruptly fell silent, and a thin, cord-like tail emerged from its underside, ending in a pointed tip that looked like a small arrow-head. Even outside of the haze-filled box, the demon’s tail was fluid-like, with hard to define edges, smoke still dripping from its form.
She eagerly wrenched the contraption back around, the inky darkness and glaring geometric eyes facing Kellin again.
Clearing aside a few papers to reveal a metal-rimmed circular hole and a longer slot in the desk, she plucked a set of tongs off a tool hook and grabbed the dangling tail.
With some careful adjusting of the tongs, she jammed the pointed tail-tip into the circular divot, where it slotted in perfectly. Then, she reached behind the suspended box, and twisted something.
So what’s in those canisters? Nothing seems to have happened, maybe the smoke is a bit greyer, but I mean–
She paused for a moment, tapping a cla- nail on the desk, clearly counting time for some reason. Then, she twisted the other valve.
White. Searing white light was the only thing that existed for Kellin for a moment, his brain overloading with the sheer amount of it. It transcended pain, it didn’t leave room in his mind for anything other than the light.
“All done!” she called cheerily.
Suddenly, the world was back, without even an afterimage to blink away, leaving Kellin momentarily uncertain if anything had actually happened. Within the box, nothing but wisps of glowing white steam remained, the smoky darkness having burnt away alongside the caged fiend within.
Beside the now-smoking circular indent, a dull buzzing sounded out from a technicolour card that was mechanically being fed out of the long slot. The attendant paused for another rehearsed moment, watching until the buzzing noise had stopped, and picked up the card, fanning it in the air.
She then held the card in front of her, dead-eyeing it as though examining the secrets of the universe within.
“I’m sorry sir, we’re going to have to take this again, your eyes are closed.”
Kellin sighed.
A few bureaucratically hellish minutes later, Kel sat back down in the carriage. Much closer to the front, the craftsmen had cleared off after the checkpoint, their leg of the journey complete. The other four passengers bound for the Academy district would continue onwards, the recruitment transport’s policy slightly different for those entering the city for education.
He turned over the glossy new ID card which he had been issued, looking at the unfortunate picture of his face in one corner.
'You have the expressiveness of a dead fish, what ar-'
“HOW dare you speak to me like that, you wretched spawnling-” Oshin’s voice trailed back into inaudible range after the loud outburst, the last to go through the checkpoint processing.
Seemingly he was also having issues with the goblinoid attendant, though of a different kind.
Kel turned to look, meeting i- remember, her- gaze as Oshin turned to the side in apparent disgust, continuing his rant into the air.
She noticed him looking, and quickly mimed choking on a noose, after double-checking that her current attendee was still preoccupied.
Kellin quickly looked away, his lips twitching.
Perhaps it won’t be too terrible in Blackpool.
“What’re you so smiley about, chatting away to one o’ them like yer old pals, you gonna chat up this korpuc bastard in a minute?” Bryn growled, startling Kel out of his momentary musing with a gesture to the carriage’s new occupant.
He faced his old tormentor with a perfectly neutral expression.
“When I want your fuckin’ input Bryn, I’ll ask you for it, and I wouldn’t hold my breath on that one, if I were you.” Kel began in a cheerful tone.
“Did you never hear of knowing your enemy? Or were you too busy learning to eat gravel from the Martial Elder to bother with tactics and strategy? Shame you had to spend so long at it, I’d thought you’re a natural at that.”
As Oshin clambered back into the carriage, briefly interrupting Bryn’s no doubt elaborate and well-reasoned retort, the Elf, who had returned to his seat at the head of the vehicle, lazily waved the wagon into motion with a dismissive flick.
The peacekeeper was focused entirely on hawkishly watching the new passenger they had picked up.
As the familiar rumble of the creaking wheels started to ring out once more, an intermittent metallic thunk joined the carriage's regular orchestra. Their new passenger was bound by the same restraints which had held Kellin and Oshin upright, sitting meekly in solitude.
It was Simon.
Quite mysteriously, without so much as a parting line, Sharp and the remnants of her cadre, with one notable exception, had gone.
Not vanished, or at least not magically, Sharp had simply finished her conversation with the Elf, and as Kel had made his way back to the vehicle, the remaining bandits had filed in-line after her, let through a door in the long kiosk counter and through a shadowed doorway at it’s back wall.
And no one had said a word. No one needed to. Somehow, some way, she had made herself more valuable to the Elf alive rather than dead. And that was the end of it.
'Dangerous thoughts Kellin, keep that shit locked down, you’re almost at the finish line.'
Which left Simon holding the proverbial bag, perhaps explaining the bloodless pallour that seemed stuck on his gagged face. What the end of this journey looked like for the outlaw mage, Kel truly couldn’t guess.
‘You’ve heard the odd story, about what was done to mages who became inconvenient for- broke the Protocols, the ones who didn’t just vanish. Magically broken, scars left by whatever was done to cut away their magic, leaving a husk behind.'
'Really regret wishing for the guy as a travelling companion now, huh?’
The carriage rolled out from under the thick gate, natural sunlight hitting Kel’s face once more, even though the cloud-dominated sky above them draped everything in a grey rain-filled pallor, it was at least more familiar than the bizarre purple tint from before the gates.
“I’m sure Kellin wouldn’t willingly get along with a viridemon, don’t be mean, deerheart,” Eryn began, her brother immediately attending to her, no longer concerned with Kel, the anger drained from his face.
Kellin gripped the ID now in his pocket slightly tighter, reminded of the other card that the goblin had handed him alongside the official identification.
“Mirf’eie gave him a far better lesson on the dangers of His vile children than you ever could. Honestly, I’m so jealous, to be directly taken into our Lord’s grace and learn His lesson, marked at the hands of His demons. You’re so lucky, Kellin.”
She finished in her patented saccharine and pious tone, which always remained unchanged no matter what she was actually saying.
Kel said nothing. He knew better than to respond as he would like. His hands were already clenched, not in fear, but rage. Any attempt to argue with her would only leave him angrier still.
‘Lucky? Luck was certainly on my side the first time the ears turned in your damn presence. Yes, it was lucky, when the goblin attack left half the village dead. Certainly, learning the lesson that ‘things go wrong’ at only the low, low cost of our siblings and parents and friends, what a fucking bargain, you utter b-’
He took a breath. The carriage rumbled along a winding grey stone road, flanked by vibrant green fields.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that far too many people appeared to be working in the field across from him, dozens and dozens, enough to leave them cramped together, and yet each one had a wide swath of field to themselves. His eyes started to hurt.
‘Spatial effects on the fields, that tracks. I suppose you’ve gotta feed a city somehow. Now, how to deal with this… Jealous, you said…’
“Quite right, Eryn.” he remarked casually, or as close to it as he could seem.
“It’s a true shame you weren’t able to receive ‘His grace’ like the rest of the village. Your family wasn’t touched in the attack, right? Oh well, I’m sure you’ll be more fortunate next time He deigns to cause chaos.”
She hummed.
“Well, he works in unlooked-for ways, but I certainly hope so!” she replied cheerfully, the only sign of her true thoughts visible in the slightest narrowing of her eyes and pursing of her lips.
“After all, ‘He sent the emerald plague unto the land, and they did-’” she began quoting from her fatalistic faith’s scripture.
“Viridemons? I’ve never heard that one, what makes a goblin demonic? They’re a filthy plague on us, but where does the demon bit fit in?” Oshin interrupted, and Kel had no choice but to gratefully accept the reprieve, despite the source.
‘Jealous. How can she say that with a straight face? Jealous of losing family? Of the pain and heartbreak afterwards? Of what we had to do to survive the fucking winters? Of-
He took another breath. Soon, he would never have to see either of them again. Soon enough that he could handle the wait. Or so he hoped.
They had passed the green fields rapidly as Eryn lectured, reaching a more sub-urban area, with shops and houses by the dozen, the roads narrowing as they split and merged, creating a tangled web of movement.
People coming and going, on foot, on horseback, on carriages much like the one they were on now, and other more bizarre conveyances.
One fellow shot past them at an intersection riding what looked like a floating rug.
“We are stopping to make repairs,” the elf interrupted Eryn’s theological lecture, “And possibly picking up one more, depending on the service.”
She had stopped short, immediately falling silent as the Peacekeeper spoke, but some inner force persuaded her to follow up with their elven ‘chaperone’, unwilling to take the interruption to her sermon lying down.
“Excuse me, sir,” she ventured, “But what do you mean by one more? Are we picking up another prisoner?”
The Peacekeeper didn’t bother to turn to her as he replied in a bored monotone, “This is a Recruitment Transport, sponsored by the Imperial Authorities and your human government. Anyone in it is to be transported to the regional academy district, and enrolled therein, or disembark by the city gates and find a job.”
“But-,” she began to reply.
The elf waved a hand, and the carriage took a left turn, looking directly at Simon as he responded; “Anyone in it. We picked up this aspirant on our way to the city, and he did not disembark at the gates, so he will be enrolled. It would be unseemly to further question this policy.”
And that was that. Eryn and Bryn made no effort to hide their disgust at the chained and gagged mage, and Oshin grimaced, probably displeased that he wouldn’t see the unfortunate fellow obliterated, but no one said a single thing more about it.
They slowed to a stop outside a large metal-shod garage, one wall fully open to the elements, with an eclectic collection of rusted metal sheets, pipes, stone, lumber and just about anything you could think of piled over on one side.
Above the less-chaotic side of the big shed, a giant wrench hung, bigger than a man, suspended by cables from the roof’s edge, with a wooden plank bolted to its handle, indiscernible writing painted onto it. It wasn’t elven, nor common, so Kellin assumed it must be dwarvish.
Even without understanding what it said, if the pile of scrap or the massive wrench hadn’t given it away, the long, but rather short, ratty old workbench that sat across the garage’s threshold with a sign painted underneath did.
‘Mechanik’; it read in common.
The Elf gracefully hopped down over the carriage’s edge, stalked over the few long strides to the low workbench, and bent down to tap the small service bell that sat on its edge.
A shrill ding rang out.
Emerging from a door on the far side of the large structure, adorned in a grease-stained white vest and blue overalls, a large pair of goggles atop a shiny bald head, and a greying, matted beard; the largest Kellin had ever seen, was a dwarf.
Belying his shortness, barely taller than a metre, he sped rather rapidly over to the counter. He stood there for a moment after replacing his goggles to his forehead, slightly leaning over the repurposed workstation as he observed his new customer, and then grunted.
“This transport is in need of repairs,” the Peacekeeper stated.
The dwarven mechanic grunted again, perhaps slightly higher in tone.
“Rapidly, can you do it?” the elf continued.
“Payment?” questioned the dwarven mechanic, his voice low and gravelly.
Although Kellin couldn’t see his face, he could have sworn the elf’s next words sounded like he was smirking.
“The grace of the Imperial forces.” the Peacekeeper replied.
The dwarf said nothing.
“Do you not wish your daughter to enroll, then? Strange, I am told she has applied many times, but if that is no longer the case, she can remain here…” the elf paused, expectantly.
The mechanic tilted his head, and grunted one more time, seeming to come to some kind of decision.
“GRETA!” he bellowed, before taking a strange vice-like tool from the workbench, and marching over to the carriage.
“Off,” he growled at the carriage’s occupants, who hurried to comply. Simon was still restrained, and the dwarf gave the Peacekeeper a questioning look. He didn’t respond, walking over to where the travelling party had gathered at the foot of the carriage.
The old mechanic shrugged, placed the strange tool under the carriage beside the front wheel, cranked it a few times, and as a purple glow outlined the vehicle, grabbed a large hammer that was hanging from his belt, and swung the hammer at the wheel with an almighty whack.
The wheel on the far side shot off the carriage, the axle shaft shooting out with it, but the carriage didn’t tilt, nor did the struck wheel fall, both suspended in the air. There was a noticeable fissure running through the gleaming metal rod.
The mechanic ambled over, grumbled, and then gave it another whack with his hammer.
Silvery sparks ran the length of the axle, and just as they finished tracing its length with a whining pop, he picked up the entire thing and shoved it back into the carriage’s frame.
Then he gave the vehicle one more light tap with the hammer, the purple glow fading as he removed the odd tool from underneath. Emerging from the same far door was another dwarf, short buzzed black hair, beardless, in dark gray overalls.
“That’ll hold til you make your delivery, bring it back after for a proper fix.” The dwarf addressed the Peacekeeper, without his eyes ever leaving the approaching figure.
She eyed the unexpected company as she walked up to her father, her expression identical to the one on his face upon seeing the Peacekeeper, and stayed silent.
“Go on then,” the mechanic said, “It’s time.”
A strange series of expressions warred across her face, then wordlessly she turned and walked directly over to the gathered passengers, some of whom eyed her warily.
Just as she took a breath to begin speaking, the Peacekeeper cut her off.
“There is one final thing, before we can depart.” he intoned, and there was a tense, officious air in his tone.
“Oshin Chromewheel, son of Athlorn, you have incited magical phenomena without guidance from an Elder, without express permission from the relevant authorities-”
“Wait, what?” Oshin croaked, his easy stance and mild sneer being replaced with raised hands and a stunned look.
'Oh shit.'
“-before you have been judged worthy of its gifts. You have broken Humanity’s Survival Protocols, assaulted a fellow aspirant, and committed murder. In accordance with this act-”
“No, NO PLEASE! I DID NOTHING WRONG, IT WAS A FUCKING CRIMINAL, I DIDN’T-”
The Peacekeeper finished his monologue, in that same dull, bored tone:
“-you are to be terminated. Stand by.”
The spellcannon emerged again from behind pristine chrome-white robes.
“PLEASE! I’M TELLING YOU, I THOUGHT IT WAS WHAT YOU WAN-” Oshin begged, before suddenly stopping, a look of raw animal panic gracing his face.
A plume of greyish smoke appeared, growing in size, swirling around him as he began chanting in a low, gutteral tone.
Kellin closed his eyes. He knew it wouldn’t be enough.
*THZZZZT*
It never was.
unkept. And how will those answers change your view on whether the cut-short tale of Oshin Chromewheel was deservedly ceased, or not?